


Phil Flies Coach Now

by sc010f



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 13:18:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2852183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sc010f/pseuds/sc010f
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil still has to fly coach, and the night before Christmas Eve is one of the worst times to fly, it turns out, but there are compensations, eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phil Flies Coach Now

**Author's Note:**

> Written for The Longest Week Drabble Fest.

Phil really misses private aircraft. He really misses The Bus, Quin jets, hell, he'd even take Stark's brass poled aircraft over being stuck in Orlando on the night before Christmas Eve. Phil's sure that ordinarily Orlando International Airport is a perfectly nice place, he's also sure that Orlando in general is a nice place, but at 7.30, the terminal is jammed with harassed parents, cranky kids, and an anxiety-inducing number of huge bags with mouse ears. The TSA agents all look murderous and Phil nearly had a heart attack approaching the security line at the giant cut out of the Hulk lurking outside of the Universal Studios store. His flight has changed gates four times and due to a fender bender (winglet bender) in New York, he's now been delayed to the point where he'd be departing when he was supposed to be landing.

The preschooler who dumped Juicy-Juice down the back of his shirt was probably the last straw. Phil is about to call Maria and have a therapeutic shouting match with her over appropriating a Stark Industries jet just to get him the hell out of here when he's finally paged to board.

The plane itself is hot, crowded and noisy. There are no fewer than three whining dogs and two screaming babies, _and a partridge in a pear tree_ , Phil thinks morosely. He's feeling just misanthropic enough to wish all passengers under the age of ten be crated and freighted, as he jams his way into his row. There's nobody in the aisle yet, but the man in the window seat is wrapped in a puffy coat with a trucker cap balanced on top of his head, headphones barely visible between the collar and the hat. He's fast asleep and sprawled in the perfect position to be exactly in Phil's way as he tries to wedge himself into the middle seat.

Phil really, really hates his life. The old lady in the aisle seat is wearing perfume that is giving him a headache. 

When they finally make it into the air, and the seatbelt sign is turned off, the old lady scrambles to the lavatory and Phil squirms around to try and get to his phone. 

Of course he elbows the sleeping guy in the process and he wakes up with a snort mad a flailing of arms. Phil grapples with him for a minute, trying to get himself out from under the coat, hat and headphones when he realizes that he's being squished by a very familiar body. The coat slides to the floor and the hat ends up on Phil's head as he looks up at the flushed face of Clint Barton.

"Surprise!" Clint crows as Phil gapes at him. 

"Clint, what the hell?" Phil asks. Clint shifts a little on Phil's lap and Phil is reminded of just how much he's missed Clint.

"Tony and Natasha's idea of a practical joke," Clint explains, shifting a little more. "He forbade me from flying with the team or any of his personal aircraft until I saw you again. Apparently I was being 'broody'."

"You mean moody?" 

"No, broody. Tasha said it was like watching a lonely hen."

"Oh, god, a hen without a cock?" Phil groans. Clint snickers and grinds down onto Phil. 

"Exactly. So, yanno, I'm not a super spy or anything..." Phil snorts and then grunts as Clint leans down to lick at his ear. "But the commercial airlines' flight manifests are easy enough to hack into if you have JARVIS to help."

"Lucky you," Phil says shifting against Clint and reaching to grasp a handful of ass, since it was there, and all.

"Lucky _you_ ," Clint contradicts him. "Merry Christmas, lover."

"Lucky me," Phil agrees. 

They don't get to join the mile high club (for JetBlue at any rate), but they don't get kicked off the aircraft either.

It's nice to get (finally) home to New York and cuddled up with Clint after an enthusiastic shared shower. Phil still hates flying coach, though.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to mydwynter for the genesis of this fest, and it's really hard to post fic on an iPad! Any errors are inadvertent.


End file.
